Secrets
by dabbling
Summary: We all have secrets. We tell ourselves it's okay, we're protecting the people we love. But sometimes secrets end up causing the most pain. Friendship, heading in the direction of romance. There is no in-between genre, so I'll stick with friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Secrets

Chapter 1

How could you really mourn someone you never knew? It's not like there were stories, a rousing eulogy, or a string of accomplishments. Elaine had never told him about his child, and she'd died when she was only three months old. Her major accomplishment in life had been to laugh out loud.

And when he thought of that, his heart was stricken with grief, as powerful as what he'd felt when he saw Frank's dead body on the pavement outside his apartment.

Rhianna. Her name had been Rhianna Elise. Since Elaine didn't want him to know, she'd not put his name on the birth certificate. It should have been Rhianna Elise Goren.

He stood at the back of the crowd in the graveyard, and watched as they lowered Elaine's casket into the ground. He'd never be able to ask her why. He was uncomfortable even approaching her family.

Rhianna would have been 30 years old last Tuesday.

Bobby stood in the crowd of mourners, tears streaking his face. No one gave him a second look; they all assumed he was mourning Elaine.

* * *

Alex was concerned, but over the years she'd been learning not to take on his crises as her own. "You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, whatever," Bobby said, shrugging off the question and stuffing a few papers into his binder.

Alex accepted his response: That was what she did these days. No more worrying over him, prodding him to open up, prying information out of him. All that had ever gotten her was high blood pressure and a pink slip in her personnel jacket. Bobby was often troubled; his troubles often multiplied exponentially, spilling out onto the people who cared about him. Distancing herself from that had been the best move she'd made in the last few years. Besides, she had worries of her own lately.

Still, she could see the puffiness around his eyes. Robert Goren had cried in front of her maybe 3 times in all the years they'd worked together, even in the face of outrageous sorrow. It was odd that he'd been crying today.

Her phone rang, rescuing her from diving in too deep. She picked it up right away. "Eames," she said. "Oh, hi Liz." As she listened to her sister, Bobby packed up his things and walked out of the office.

* * *

He searched his mind, wondering why Elaine never told him. He remembered their breakup, ugly but not impossible to overcome for the sake of a child. He remembered the times with Elaine as well…

_Bobby leaned back against the car and took a long draw of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and grinding it out with his foot. She leaned her back against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, stooping to suckle the soft skin of her neck. He smiled and moaned with pleasure when he felt her hips grinding back against him. Bobby let one hand roam its way down her torso and tuck into the waistband of her jeans._

_ "Bobby!" Lewis shouted._

_ He brought his hand back and straightened up. There was only so far he would go in public. "Over here, Lewis, what is it?" he called back. He watched his friend jog over._

_ "Frank just showed up."_

_ Bobby dropped his hands, stepping away from his girlfriend. He turned to her and gave her the keys to his car. "You… you need to go home. I'll call you later, Elaine," he said, giving her a quick and juicy kiss._

Was that why they had broken it off? Too much family drama? Between Frank and his mother, there had been a lot to deal with.

Maybe she'd been afraid to tell him about the baby because she was afraid Frank and his mother would want to be a part of her life.

He felt that stabbing pain in his heart again. They should have been a part of Rhianna's life. _He_ should have been part of her life. He could have protected her if things got out of hand. His mother should have had the chance to be a grandmother. To at least have _known_ she was a grandmother.

* * *

Alex hadn't said anything to Bobby. The procedure was scheduled for tomorrow morning. If all went well she would be back at work on Monday without having to baby it too much. Everyone she'd spoken with said the first two days were usually the worst.

She was hungry, but it was already past 8 p.m. and she wasn't allowed to eat anything now. Alex poured a glass of water and drank it down. Liz would be over in the morning to pick her up.

* * *

He wondered about Rhianna's birth. He'd memorized her birth certificate. She was born on April 11 at 2:36 a.m. Five pounds and eleven ounces.

Bobby imagined what it was like, Elaine straining to push the wriggling child out of her womb. He knew from the hospital records that she had been admitted at 8 p.m. on the 10th. Six and a half hours of labor.

He wondered if anyone had been with her… a boyfriend maybe, some strange man to serve as a surrogate father to _his_ child. Or maybe just Elaine and her mother. Or maybe Elaine was alone through it all.

If he'd been allowed to be there… the tears filled his eyes again as he mourned the missed opportunity to see himself in another person, a brand new life in the world.

Thanks to his detective work, he knew that she'd been jaundiced at birth but otherwise healthy. She'd gone home and never been readmitted. Her visits with her doctor were all satisfactory. And then, at 3 months old, she died. SIDS was to blame.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Goren wandered into the office a little late. Frankly he didn't care much about work lately. Alex would cover for him, anyway. He had no worries. He flopped into his desk and began organizing the contents of his binder. He reverently separated the information he'd gathered about his daughter and placed it in a clean manila envelope. Tucking it into the back of the binder, he then turned his attention to the materials related to the cold case they were exploring.

Eames wasn't at her desk. Her computer wasn't on, her _stuff_ was missing. He checked his phone, but he had no messages from her. Quickly, he dialed her number, only to be forced to leave a message on voicemail.

"Eames, just wondering if you're sick or something. Give me a call." He hung up.

"Goren," the Captain called from the doorway of his office.

Bobby got up and sauntered over.

"You were late," Ross said.

"I… I put in extra last week on the Dengler case, I thought I had it coming."

Ross bristled. "I decide who has it coming." He shook his head and frowned. "But that's not why I called you in here. We need someone to fill in for Eames in court today."

"Oh?"

"She's sick, you didn't know?"

"Uh, sure, she probably forgot to call me, you know, sick and all."

"You two really need to work on your communication," Ross breathed. "It's like you're out of sync, lately."

Goren just shrugged and said nothing.

"Anyway, the Greenwell case. You and Eames and Logan worked it together. The DA's office called and somehow they managed to get squeezed in today instead of next week. So I need you to cover it."

"What about Logan?"

"He's pounding the pavement on a case right now." Ross shrugged. "I could care less which one of you goes. You get him to trade with you, fine. One of you needs to be in court at 2:30 this afternoon."

Bobby turned and left, his mind reeling. He dialed Eames again, and again got voice mail. "Eames, what's going on? Ross told me you're sick. Give me a call."

With great restraint he placed the phone carefully on the desktop. Bobby was angry. Why hadn't she called him?

* * *

Alex's eyes fluttered open. She saw her sister smiling at her. "Hi, Lex, how you feeling?" She asked.

Honestly, Alex was tired and dizzy. She gave her sister a confused look and sighed. "Is it over?" She croaked.

"Yes, you did great," Liz said. "They said as soon as you're feeling alert, we can get checked out and go home." Liz didn't tell her that was the third time she'd woken, the third time she'd passed the message along.

Alex looked around. It was an outpatient procedure. She was in a curtained off area, in a hospital bed. She heard voices on the other side of the curtain and wondered if that woman had a biopsy, too.

"My throat hurts," Alex said.

Liz unwrapped a lozenge and handed it to Alex, who gratefully stuck it in her mouth. To her satisfaction, Alex was staying awake this time. Maybe they could go home, soon. "I'm going to go tell them you're awake," she said, and left through the little slit in the curtain.

Carefully, Alex moved her right arm and tried to touch the wrapped area by her left armpit. It was still numbed from the surgery. She lowered her hand back down, looking at the IV tube that stretched from her forearm to the hanging bag next to the bed.

A nurse followed Liz back into the 'room,' and cheerfully greeted Alex. "How are you feeling, Ms. Eames?"

"Tired," Alex repeated.

The nurse smiled compassionately. "That's to be expected. Are you ready to go home?"

Alex nodded.

"I'll send the doctor in just as soon as I can. Once he gives the order, we can send you home."

"Thanks," said Alex.

* * *

Bobby's anger with his partner had been smoldering all day. He'd gone home to change into a nicer suit and headed to the courthouse. Before entering the courtroom, he checked his phone again. She still hadn't called. He frowned and turned it off, then went inside, sitting close behind the prosecutor's table.

* * *

"Bobby called," Liz said, handing Alex her cell phone. She'd fallen asleep again almost as soon as she'd gotten home, and now she was content to lie in bed and do nothing. Her arm was hurting now, and the only pain killer she could use was over the counter stuff. Alex looked at the list of his messages, and decided it would be too much work to talk to him now.

"I'll call him later," she said, and dropped the phone on the mattress beside her.

"What are you going to do about your job, Lex? They said you need to take it easy on that arm for six weeks."

"I'll have to tell Ross… light duty…"

"You didn't tell him yet?"

"I thought I would be fine once the weekend was over."

Liz read through the documents the staff sent them home with. "It's not so simple as that, Sis."

Alex frowned and shut her eyes, and before long she was sleeping again.

* * *

When court was out, she still hadn't called. Bobby dialed her number once again, and was surprised when she answered.

"Hello?" her voice sounded weak and kind of hoarse.

"Eames? I was worried about you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Bobby," she spoke slowly. "My sister's with me."

"You're sick?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need anything?"

"My sister's with me. I'm fine. Thanks, Bobby."

"Uh, I'll call you tomorrow. Get well, Eames."

"Bye, Bobby."

* * *

The anger was gone as soon as he heard the weakness in her voice. Whatever she had, it had knocked her down hard. He placed his phone in his pocket and headed home, his mind again turning to the short life of the child he never knew.

* * *

A/N Stick with me, it won't be this dark the whole time, I promise! I hope to hear some reviews from you!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They tinkered with a '71 Trans Am for most of the morning, then went up to Lewis' apartment to put together some lunch. It took a while to get the grease off, but once Goren was clean, he found enough ingredients in the fridge to throw together some chicken fajitas.

Cooking lifted his spirits a little, and when he placed the plates on the table, Lewis raised his glass in a toast. "To Bobby Goren, the best, most unavailable, personal chef I've ever had."

Bobby had to smile at that. He took a drink and sat down to eat.

"Something's eating at you," Lewis said.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "It's big, Lewis. Big and bad."

Lewis swallowed. Considering what Bobby had already gone through, for him to say now that something was big and bad was daunting. "Shoot," he said, giving Bobby permission to unload on him.

Bobby ate a couple more bites, then pushed his plate away. "You remember Elaine Picetti?"

He nodded.

"She, uh… she died a few days ago."

Lewis cocked his head a little, a look of concern on his face.

"She was in a car accident, on the freeway. Her… her probate lawyer gave me a call. He had a letter for me." Bobby took a long drink and pulled the manila envelope out of his binder, which he'd placed on the table that morning. He handed his friend the letter.

_Dear Bobby,_

_If you're reading this, it means I'm dead. I thought you should know, we had a daughter. We were through, and you were off to college. Her name was Rhianna Elise and she died of SIDS when she was still a baby. I just thought you should know._

_ Elaine_

Lewis read it twice, his expression falling with each passing second. "Jesus, Bobby."

Bobby held his hand clamped over his mouth as the tears welled up again. Forcing them to recede, he opened the envelope and extracted her birth certificate. He passed it over to Lewis, who read it diligently. Then Bobby handed him the death certificate. "She was 3 months old," Bobby said, his voice faltering.

Lewis took a deep breath. How could he possibly console his friend? "Have you… have you been to her grave?"

Bobby's eyes teared up again. "Yes and no," he said. "I was at Elaine's burial…she's right beside her…but I didn't… I just couldn't." Bobby cleared his throat and wiped his eyes on his hand. "At the funeral home… there were some pictures…" He stopped and took another deep breath. "I never got to see her, Lewis. People said it would comfort Elaine that she was with Rhianna now, and I…" That was all he could manage. His chest heaving, he stared at his plate and tried to regain control of himself.

"You talked to her family about … about her?"

Bobby shook his head fiercely.

Lewis nodded. "You want me to?"

A tear slipped down his cheek as he looked up at his friend, his best friend.

* * *

Alex was quite sore, but she was sleeping less today than yesterday. She didn't stay in bed all day, either. She tried to carry on as if it were a normal day, except for the two times she dozed off on the couch. Liz was still there, making sure she didn't try anything stupid.

In the evening, her phone rang, and the display told her it was Bobby. "Hello?" she answered.

"Eames, how are you feeling?" He asked.

There was something distant about his voice. The detective in her wanted to know what had been bothering him. She talked herself out of it. She didn't do that any more.

"I'm better, Bobby, thanks."

"You sound better." She said nothing, even though he waited. Finally, he said, "Can I get you anything?"

"No, my sister's still here. I'm okay."

"Oh." He actually sounded disappointed.

"Bobby, did you have something you wanted to tell me?"

"N-no. You take care, Eames. Get some rest."

"Okay, Bobby. Bye."

* * *

Goren hung up the phone and rested the smooth back of it against his forehead. He was exhausted. He was glad he'd told Lewis, but it had taken a toll on him. The tears had run rampant for most of the day. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and, binder in hand, walked down the street to his apartment.

Tomorrow, he would visit his little girl.

* * *

A/N I know it was short, but that really seemed the logical place to stop this chapter. Thanks for the reviews, and I always love to hear more!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Alex had managed to get up and dressed. Now in the kitchen, she was working on buttering a piece of toast. Her sister walked in, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Lex, you get up early," she muttered.

Alex smiled. "I usually go running, so I have to make time for it."

"How are you this morning?"

"Sore, but good. I think I can manage now, Liz."

Liz sat down at the table. "You're not getting rid of me before I've had my morning coffee," she teased.

Alex chuckled. "Coming right up." She grabbed a mug from the cabinet, set it on the counter, and filled it from the carafe, all without the use of her left hand.

* * *

Lewis put in a half day, then went home and showered. He put on his best slacks and a button down shirt. After checking himself in the mirror, he decided he was presentable. Then he drove to Canarsie.

He found the address, referring to the card Bobby had printed out for him. After a deep breath, he walked up and rang the bell. A familiar, though older face greeted him.

"Mrs. Picetti?"

"Yes?" She obviously didn't recognize him.

He held out his right hand. "I'm Lewis Ruzicki. I went to school with Elaine." He saw the recognition, and then the sadness, in her eyes. "I heard about… what happened. I'm really sorry for your loss, Mrs. Picetti."

"Who's that?" Her husband called from inside.

"A high school friend of Elaine's," she called back. "Come in, Lewis. Please."

He followed the woman inside.

* * *

Bobby got out of the car and stood on the edge of the grass, as if he was wavering about whether to go ahead with this or not. He saw the new grave, with no headstone yet, and he could just make out the smaller marker on the grass beside it.

He reached up and straightened his tie. In his best suit, with his shoes sharply polished, he stepped forward into the grass and made his way to the grave.

It was very tidy, probably because someone had prepared it for Elaine's funeral. The headstone read, "Rhianna Elise Picetti, our little angel." Bobby felt like he was miles away from her. He knelt down, not caring that the moist ground was probably ruining his suit.

"H-hello, Angel," he said quietly. "I… uh, I'm your Dad." The tears fell. "I only just found out about you," he said. "I wouldn't have ever left you alone, you know? I would have been there, every minute, baby."

"I'm sorry…I just…never knew," he cried. "I never knew I was your Daddy."

* * *

Lewis sipped from a glass of iced tea and looked from one parent to another as they shared stories of Elaine. He told one or two of his own, and they appreciated learning more about her.

Finally, Lewis leaned forward and gave them his best smile. "You remember Bobby Goren?" He asked.

They glanced quickly at each other. "Yes, he dated Elaine," Mr. Picetti said.

"He's a good friend of mine. He said he got a call… after the accident."

"I think I saw him at the funeral home," the woman said. She gave her husband a stern glare. "I told you that was him."

Lewis nodded. "It was." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I guess Elaine left a short letter for him. She told him Rhianna was his." He brought the letter out of his shirt pocket and unfolded it to show them.

The parents read it, but their faces remained stern. "She told us he abandoned her," her father said, emotion welling up as he spoke. "She lived here, through the pregnancy. Then she moved out to Queens."

"Bobby never knew he had a daughter," Lewis said quietly. "Until a few days ago."

Mrs. Picetti got up abruptly and left the room. A door closed, and sobs could be heard.

"I'm sorry to bring you more pain, Mr. Picetti," Lewis said, and he meant it. "But Bobby, he's mourning, too. And I was wondering if… maybe you have a spare photograph? Or we could just get a duplicate made and return it to you."

He let out a heavy breath. "Of course. Of course."

* * *

As she reached for the olive oil in the pantry, her arm bumped the box of rice and it started to fall. Alex's reflexes kicked in and she caught it, but not without tugging all her stitches. Her hand went to her armpit and she squeezed her eyes shut, cussing through gritted teeth. After a moment, she recovered and finished making dinner, very careful not to use her left arm.

* * *

It took a while, but Bobby finally felt more like himself. He picked up the phone and called his partner.

"Hi Bobby," she said.

"Eames," he said.

"Do you have a cold?" She asked.

Roughly, he cleared his throat. "No," he said, but it came out as "Doh."

"What's wrong?" She asked. She was clearly in her rights to ask him that now.

After a pause, he sighed. "I… I've got a lot going on right now, Eames. I called about you."

She held her hand against her aching stitches. "Pretty good, Bobby. I'm okay."

"Okay, Eames. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I think so."

"Good night, Eames."

"Good night, Goren. And Bobby?"

"Huh?"

"Let me know if you need anything."

"Yeah. Okay."

* * *

She wore black slacks with a collared button down blouse. It was very modest, and there was no chance anyone would see evidence of her surgery. Experimentally, she moved her arm in a slow circle. Her range was limited, but she could move it without much pain.

Alex finished her morning routine and drove in to work.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Alex was at her desk, checking her email, looking as fresh as any other day. She hadn't spoken to Ross. She still had the feeling she could get through the recovery without any special treatment.

Bobby came in and looked her over before he sat in his chair. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

She gave him a smile. "Good, Bobby. Thanks." She studied his face, and could tell he'd been crying again, but most likely not this morning. "You?"

He shrugged. "Better, I guess."

She was concerned for him. She'd never been able to turn it off completely. "Bobby," she started, but he interrupted her.

"It's okay, Eames. I'll get through it."

The day was full of deskwork, and lunch was out at the hot dog cart. At three in the afternoon, when Alex was reaching for her left side desk drawer with her right hand, Bobby spoke up.

"You're hurt, aren't you?" he said.

She hadn't even pulled it off for a day. Slowly, she raised her right hand and gently rubbed at a few of her stitches.

Bobby's head cocked to one side, and he grew even more concerned. "Eames, what happened?"

The last thing she wanted was Bobby hovering over her, keeping her from doing… well, her job. She could still pull it off, she thought.

"Long story," she said. "I reached for something in the cabinet, and everything went awry."

"Did you, you know, get it looked at? You might have torn something."

"Yeah, it's okay. I just have to give it time and take some advil."

He was quiet then, but the look on his face told her he wasn't quite convinced. Alex turned back to her drawer and pulled it open with her left, just to prove she could.

It pulled her stitches, but only a little. She reached in and found the form she was looking for.

Bobby saw her little demonstration, and he resolved to keep a close eye on her. She was keeping something from him, but he wouldn't push her. She would tell him if she wanted to.

Still and all, he was worried. The location had him concerned. And a muscle problem couldn't possibly require the help of her sister for two days. As great as she was at lying on the job, undercover, in the interrogation room, Alex was a terrible liar as far as her personal life was concerned.

Lewis called him just before closing, and she saw Bobby's pained expression, fleeting though it was. "Okay, thanks, Lewis. I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up the phone and looked over at her. "Lewis, uh, did me a favor. I have to go see him tonight."

She offered him a smile. "I'm glad he's helping you, Bobby." And she _was_ glad.

He stood, but glanced down at her. He thrust his chin in the direction of her shoulder. "You, uh, you take care of that, Eames. Call me if you need help or anything."

"Thanks, Bobby. I'll be fine."

* * *

Lewis met him at the library, the perfect place for Bobby to make the acquaintance of his daughter. Lewis gave Bobby a quick hug at the top of the steps. "We gotta find a spot with a lamp," Lewis said, "so you can… really see."

The two men moved through the stacks, peering into hidden alcoves containing easy chairs, lamps, or tables. At last, they found an empty study table in a nook near the outside wall. The stacks nearby would give them privacy.

Lewis sat down beside him and handed him the letter from Elaine first. As Bobby replaced that in his binder, Lewis opened a large clasp envelope and slid out a 5 by 7 portrait of a baby, _his _baby.

Bobby gulped back a sob as he pulled the photograph under the lamp and stared at it, his hand over his mouth.

Lewis studied it, too, for the hundredth time since it had been placed in his hands. She was about two months old in the picture, propped into some kind of baby chair. The photographer had covered the seat with lamb's wool, and she was wearing a little red dress with a bow around her nearly bald head.

"She had your nose," Lewis said. "And her hair, it looks curly."

It was a long time before Bobby could speak. "Elaine's chin, I think. And her eyes." He paused again. "I saw this one at the funeral home." He took a deep breath. "I didn't get to see her so closely, though."

Bobby scraped his hand over his face and his eyes filled with tears again. Lewis reached out and massaged his shoulder with one strong hand. "Thank you, Lewis," Bobby whispered. "Thank you."

* * *

The next morning was spent in court. Bobby noticed again how Alex favored her left arm. He didn't ask, and she didn't enlighten him.

Alex thought he seemed better, today. He looked like he may have slept, and his eyes weren't so puffy and raw. They parted ways for lunch, neither wanting to reveal their secret to the other.

He watched her return in the afternoon, slowly removing her little suit-jacket and hanging it on the chair. Then she popped two advil and downed a third of a bottle of water.

"Goren, Eames," Ross called from his office. They rose and went to his office. "This is an ugly one," he announced, and handed over a folder with crime scene photos. Eames cringed when she saw the first one, and passed it over to Bobby, who didn't flinch, but his blink rate increased.

"We have yet to ID the body. Male, in his 30s. Rodgers is doing his autopsy as we speak. CSU is down at the scene. Get over there, see what you can."

Bobby carried the file for them. Eames paused to replace her jacket, and without a thought, he held it for her while she slipped her sore arm inside. He hooked his fingers into his suit coat and carried it until they boarded the elevator car.

After putting on his jacket, Bobby studied the pictures. "Drawn and quartered," he said. "Looks like textbook carving."

"Great. A killer who's studied in medieval torture techniques. Was he alive when he started doing that to him?"

"Actually the first recorded instance of someone being hanged, drawn and quartered was in the late 1300s, which most scholars believe was the end of the medieval period. The practice continued for hundreds of years, though."

Alex, stunned, looked at her partner. "Anyone else who knows that would consider that to be completely useless information."

"So did I. Until today," he said, waving the folder in front of her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Bobby and Alex moved carefully through the bloody crime scene. It was a basement workshop, woodworking tools that had been set to a new use. There was a lot of blood, on the floor and on the walls. Bobby looked at a workbench and saw something. He called the photographer over and got help sliding the heavy bench away from the wall. There, on the wall behind it, were spots that looked suspiciously like blood spatter. Only these were not the same color as the others.

"Blood," Alex said.

"Yeah. Old blood."

"This wasn't his first victim," she said, speaking his thoughts aloud.

* * *

They stood in Rodgers' exam room. She stood between two tables, each sporting pieces of the victim's body. "Drawn and quartered," she said, her face grim.

"Historically, people were partially hanged first," Bobby said.

"Well, this monster isn't living in the past. He was drugged, drawn and quartered. There were traces of quazepam in his system."

"Sedative?" Bobby asked.

"Tranquilizer," she corrected. "Very effective one. If the victim was not accustomed to it, it would have knocked him out pretty quickly."

Alex looked at what was left of the victim. "Thank God for that," she said.

* * *

"The name on the lease was an alias. It has shown up before," Alex showed Bobby the report she was reading. He stacked the book he was researching to one side and read it over quickly. She continued, "I'm running these other names through the system to see what turns up."

Bobby showed her the title of the book he was reading. "From his study. He was researching the techniques they used."

She waited for him to explain further.

"He sees himself as a public servant. He passes judgement and then delivers the consequences, in his mind taking the offender off the streets, protecting the public."

She frowned.

Bobby continued. "Historically, this kind of punishment was reserved for traitors."

"He thinks he's keeping America safe? Self-proclaimed homeland security?"

Ross walked over. "We got an ID for your victim," he said, handing over the paper in his hand. "Qaim Amiri."

The detectives gave each other a look. They were on the right track.

* * *

"Here's the report from trace. They've got DNA from a previous victim." Alex passed it to Bobby so he could have a look.

She sat down and started reading the file in front of her. It was everything they'd been able to find on the newest victim, Qaim Amiri.

Bobby set down the paper and went back to his own reading. He made some notes in his ledger.

"Amiri worked at the bank," she announced. "For 8 years. All his employee reviews are solid. I wish we would get some idea on the killer's identity, find out where he found his victim."

"Well, maybe we can," Bobby suggested, sitting up. "Maybe he did his banking there. Cross check the aliases with the bank."

* * *

"Hello? Hi, Liz," Alex said as she wandered through the house watering plants. "Yeah, tomorrow afternoon. No, I can go alone. Just, you know… I'll call you after." Her sister said something that made her smile. "Thanks, Sis."

After replacing the pitcher in the kitchen, she looked down at the phone she still held in her hand. He'd called her every night. He wouldn't be upset if she checked in on him, too… would he?

She dialed, and he answered right away. "Hi, Bobby."

"Eames."

"I was just… you know, I wanted to see how you're doing." There was silence, and she wondered if she'd gone too far.

"I'm okay, Eames. I'm okay tonight."

"Good. I'll see you in the morning then."

"Good night, Eames."

"Good night, Bobby."

* * *

The fax awaiting them Wednesday morning was a real break in the case. The killer had done his banking under the name Patrick O'Dell. The two detectives headed for the bank right away.

Bobby's binder was stuffed full, between notes he'd taken to profile O'Dell and notes he had on Amiri. He carefully reviewed it all as she drove them through the morning traffic.

"Goren," he said, grabbing his phone right away. "Oh, hey Lewis," he said. He turned toward the window and listened to Lewis apologize and explain he expected to get his voicemail. "No, it's okay, we're driving." He listened again. "I'm okay, Lewis. Thanks." Bobby hung up the phone and turned to his partner, giving her a small smile. "Lewis says 'Hi.'"

Alex grinned. "Of course he does." She was glad Lewis was checking on Bobby. Glancing over at him, she observed for herself that he seemed to be coming back to himself. She parked the car just shy of a red zone on the curb. Bobby congratulated her on the tight squeeze.

In the bank, Alex got information on their victim from his coworkers while Bobby sweet talked the management out of security videos from Amiri's last week at work.

They got back to 1PP in time to have a working lunch. "Bobby, I have an appointment this afternoon," she told him. Gesturing to her shoulder, she continued, "you know, about this."

Mentally, Bobby added this new information to what was already kicking around in his head. Outwardly, he nodded and said, "Sure, okay." Casually, he added, "What time?"

"Uh, 2:30."

"Good day to watch videos," he said, holding up the tiny hard drive he'd been given at the bank.

"Sounds good to me," she said. She'd already set a bunch of people on the trail of O'Dell. At this point, there was nothing she could do but wait for a call.

* * *

When Alex drove home that night, she was not really surprised to see her partner sitting on her porch stoop, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together.

She was still reeling. The doctor's information hadn't quite made it to the comprehension level yet. She was a little angry he was there, but at the same time, she was grateful for it. She got out of the car, gathered her things, and walked around him to open the door.

Bobby got to his feet and followed her in, pushing the door shut behind him. He watched her drop her purse and her other things on the kitchen table. As Alex turned back, he waited until she was facing him and said, "Is it cancer?"

He knew. Alex stared at him, wondering that he knew and hadn't said anything. "Not this time," she replied quietly. She wasn't sure how she landed in his arms, but once there, she sobbed with relief.

Bobby held her shaking body and pressed his cheek against the crown of her head. First his mind clung to the relief he was feeling; then it puzzled over the words she'd just said.

When at last she pulled away, he dropped his arms to his side and watched her walk over to her purse.

"What do you mean, 'this time?' When did you have cancer and I didn't know?"

She answered him quickly, picking up her cell phone. "When you were suspended. Look, I've got to call my sister." She held the phone up and glanced at him. "Stick around, Bobby?"

Nodding, he slipped out of his suit coat and draped it over the back of a chair.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"I can't believe you never told me," he said as she sat down beside him on the couch.

"It's not an easy thing to tell," she said. "I called you, you never called back. And when I did finally see you…"

"I'm sorry."

"You were undercover. I understand now, Bobby."

"What was it, what happened?"

"I had a lumpectomy... and radiation."

"Chemo?"

"They said the radiation took care of it."

"And now?"

"Lymph biopsy."

"But you're okay?" He needed to hear it again. His mother had died of lymphoma.

"It came back clear."

Bobby sighed with relief and then said, "I just can't believe you never told me, even after I was reinstated."

"We all have secrets. You've got one of your own right now."

Bobby reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He extracted a photograph of a baby and handed it to her. He'd made the 5X7 into a wallet size so he could keep her close.

"She's beautiful. Who is she?"

"My daughter," he said, and before Alex could react happily, he told her the whole story. This time, Bobby didn't cry until he saw the tears falling from Alex's eyes. For the second time that night, they consoled each other.

* * *

It had been a long time. A long, long time of keeping each other distant. Tonight, bridging that distance unlocked a powerful secret they'd both been keeping from themselves.

They'd recovered from the telling of the secrets. Bobby had replaced Rhianna's picture in his wallet, and Alex had conjured something quick and easy for dinner. Bobby had sat back in his chair and said, "I miss the old days."

She'd stared at him , afraid to admit she knew what he was referring to.

"I mean, it was easy back then, wasn't it? You had my back, I had yours. Deakins running us all over town."

She swallowed. "I miss it, too."

"So what changed it all?" He asked, though he could list at least 5 things as soon as the words fell from his lips.

"A lot of… trials," she said.

"You mean me, I changed."

"No, Bobby, I changed, too."

"I've been trying… not to be, you know, bitter. The bitterness was killing me."

"Oh, Bobby," she exclaimed, "I've been trying… not to care. It's been eating away at me."

They held each other again, and he whispered, "No more secrets. Maybe that will help bring it back the way it used to be."

He felt her arms tighten around him, even the one still sore from the biopsy. "No more secrets."

He took her hands with his own and lowered them, starting with her left. Bobby looked into her eyes. "It's getting late, I should get home."

She smiled and nodded at him. He put his suit coat on, checked that he had his keys and his cell. She hugged him again in the doorway, and he looked down into her eyes. "I'm glad it's not cancer, Alex. I'm glad you beat it."

"I'll always be afraid of it coming back," she admitted.

He picked up her chin with his gentle fingers. "And I'll always be with you. We'll fight it together."

The kiss was unexpected. They shared one more moment of compassion, and he walked out into the night, heading for the subway.

* * *

"Got it," Alex said, smiling. "Dillon Roarke Casey. That's his real name." She handed the file to Bobby, who would be able to read and digest it much faster than she could. She went to the tech department to see if they could hurry up pulling a decent picture off the bank's security tapes.

* * *

They found him at work. Bobby and Alex led a small team of officers into the cabinet shop and touched their weapons, badges shining brightly in plain view.

"Dillon Casey, AKA Patrick O'Dell," Alex called. The workers glanced over at him and he started to run. Bobby and Alex ran after him. Alex was faster, and got ahead of him, blocking his way. He took a swing at her with his right, and Alex quickly blocked the punch with her left. Bobby caught him by the waist and dropped him to the ground. Alex drew her weapon on him and held it steady until Bobby had him cuffed. "Dillon Casey, you're under arrest for the murder of Qaim Amiri and Muhammed Sattar."

Alex replaced her gun in its holster and pressed her right hand against the sore spot on her left. Once the other officers took charge of the perp, Bobby looked over at her with great concern. "You all right?" He asked.

"It really hurts," she complained, "But I think so."

He took her by her good arm and escorted her protectively out of the shop.

* * *

There was no need to interrogate him. The physical evidence alone would convict him. Bobby took on the paperwork and sent Alex home. Their new pact of honesty prevented her from arguing, and staying anyway.

"Thanks, Bobby," she said quietly.

"I'll check on you later," he said, waving goodbye.

* * *

The ring of the doorbell was welcome. She let Bobby in and he held up a box. "I got us a calzone."

"Sounds good," she said.

"How's the arm?"

"Better. I've been babying it."

"Good."

"Reports done?"

"Booked him, sent him to Rikers, and submitted our report to Ross."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Alex handed him a plate and they sat down at the table together.

"I... uh… I got a call today." He pulled his half of the calzone free from a stubborn piece of melted cheese. "From the Picettis. They've invited me over for Sunday brunch."

"You going?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

"They can tell you more about her."

"I know."

"You want some company?"

He thought about it, but shook his head. "Maybe after."

She covered his hand with hers. "Sure, Bobby."

* * *

A/N I borrowed the line "the bitterness was killing me" from a song by Field Report "I Am Not Waiting Anymore." You can find it on Youtube. I hope you're enjoying the story!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

He was in his second best suit. The visit had gone well, and even though there had been a few more tears, it had been worth it. Bobby unclipped his tie and loosened it. He hung his jacket in the closet and pulled a beer out of the fridge.

When the doorbell rang, he was quick to open it. Alex stepped in, and he kicked the door shut as he fell into her embrace. Bobby didn't cry. He was past that now.

"That bottle's pretty cold against my back," she complained.

With a grin, he let her go. "Sorry."

"Got one of those for me?"

He handed her the one in his hand. "Sure." Alex took a drink as he unscrewed the cap on another one. She kicked off her shoes, and sat in the corner of his couch, tucking her feet up underneath her.

Bobby sprawled on the other end, his beer hanging loosely from the fingers of his left hand, stretched out across the back of the couch.

"How'd it go?" Alex asked.

"Good," Bobby answered. "Really good." He gestured to a box on the coffee table. "They had that for me," he said.

She stretched out her legs and leaned forward. Opening the box, she saw there was a photo album inside. "Oh, Bobby," she said, as she gently lifted the book out of the box and went through it page by page. He sat silently and drank his beer, setting the empty bottle on the coffee table. He'd already looked through the album a dozen times.

"They… they couldn't tell me why she kept it secret," he said. "I had my theories, they had theirs. We'll never know," he said.

Alex closed the book and smoothed her hand over the cover. "It must have been hard on you. All of you."

He nodded. "It was. But it was good, too. You know, Alex? I've been mourning Rhianna… I think, after today, I can mourn Elaine, too."

She set the book back in its box and took him by the hand. "That's good, Bobby. She was an important part of your life."

"I think I learned something else," he said, gently squeezing her hand.

"Yeah?"

"You just never know…" he glanced down, then made eye contact again. "You know… we're here… now…"

"Appreciate what you've got," she said for him.

"Yeah." He simply stared into her eyes for a moment. "About last night… the kiss… I didn't mean to…"

"Bobby, I didn't mean to, either."

"Oh," he said, and he sounded disappointed.

She raised her right hand and took him by the chin. "Hey," she said. "It was real. It was what we needed." She leaned in. "Kind of like this."

He stretched forward, too, and felt her breath against his lips as she said, "now."

This kiss was more than what they'd done the night before. It was rich, and deep, and full of emotion. This kiss stirred up the secret that had never yet been spoken between them.

It finally ended, and he smoothed her hair back on one side with his open hand. She kept her hand where it was, against his warm and rugged jaw. "I'm so glad I have you, Alex," he said.

She was pleased that he was using her first name. She welcomed this new intimacy. "I can't imagine where I'd be without you in my life," she told him.

"I know where I'd be," he said. He turned toward her hand and kissed her fingertips. "Lost."

And in that moment, as her head relaxed against his chest and he drew both of his hands slowly down her back, there were no more secrets. They didn't dive into a frenzied night of love making, or rush into a torrid love affair. They were just two people, friends, who slowly and surely found love in the strength and tenderness of the other.

THE END

* * *

A/N Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting. Remember, it's never to late to leave a review!


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